The Desired Woman(Fiscle Part-3 Of 2) by Will N. Harben (e book reader pdf TXT) 📕

Brooding Morbidly,  And Sank Deep,  Deep Into Sleep,  So Deep That The

Darkness Seemed To Close In And Crush My Spirit Right Out Of My Body.

Then I Was Floating About,  Free To Go Where I Liked. I Felt Awfully

Lonely And Desolate. Presently I Found Myself On Our Lawn In Front Of

The House,  But Unable To Get In. I Heard Some One Crying Inside; It

Seemed To Be Hilda. I Couldn't Tell What She Was Crying About,  But I

Had The Feeling That It Was Because Something Was Happening To The

Boy. I Went To The Door And Tried To Ring,  But Had No Hands--Think Of

That,  I Had No Hands! Suddenly I Found Myself In The Hall,  But Unable

To Go Up The Stairs. Something Seemed To Clutch Me And Hold Me Back. I

Tried To Cry Out,  But Had No Voice. I Thought I Heard My Husband

Talking To The Child,  Tenderly--Oh,  So Tenderly! I Was Crying As I Had

Never Cried Before. I Wanted To See The Boy. It Was As If A New Heart

Had Been Born In Me Or An Old One Resurrected. Then I Heard The Door

Of My Husband's Room Open,  And I Shrank Back Afraid To Meet Him,  For I

Thought Of--Of You And Me Being Like This. Then I Waked And Found

Myself Here In Bed,  My Pillow Drenched With Tears. Oh,  I Wanted To

Die--I Wanted To Die Then!"

"It Was A Nightmare," Buckton Commented,  Uneasily. "It Has All The

Earmarks Of One. We Are Always,  In Such Dreams,  Trying To Get

Somewhere Or Away From Something Horrible."

"It Haunted Me All Day Yesterday," Irene Sighed. "And Last Night I Had

To Take One Of My Morphine Tablets To Get To Sleep."

"I Wish You'd Give That Up,  Darling," Buckton Said,  Reproachfully. "I

Saw Them On Your Bureau Yesterday And Started To Throw Them Out Of The

Window. Doctors Say It Easily Becomes A Habit,  And A Bad One."

"I Don't Take It Often,  I Really Don't," Irene Answered. "But I

Sometimes Wonder If It Would Make Any Difference. I Can Sympathize

With A Hopeless Drunkard,  Who,  In A Besotted Condition,  Is Able To

Forget Trouble And Sorrow."

"Finish Your Breakfast," Buckton Cried,  Forcing A Laugh. "We Are Going

To Take That Drive. The Fresh Air Will Knock All Those Ideas Out Of

Your Pretty Head."

They Spent The Day Driving About The Country. They Had Supped At A

Quaint And Picturesque Cafe,  And Returned To The Hotel. He Was In Her

Bedroom At Ten O'clock,  Still Active In His Efforts To Set Her Mind At

Ease,  When A Sharp Rapping Was Heard On The Door Of His Sitting-Room

Adjoining.

"It Is Something For Me," Buckton Said. "Wait,  And I'll See What It

Is."

Before He Had Finished Speaking There Was Another And A Louder

Rapping. Buckton Hastened Out,  Closing The Connecting Door Cautiously.

Irene Stood Up. She Had A Premonition That Something Disagreeable Was

About To Happen. She Heard Buckton Unlock His Door. Then She

Recognized The Voice Of The Proprietor Of The Hotel.

"I Want To See You Privately,  Mr. Buckton," The Voice Said.

"All Right; Won't You Come In?" Buckton Replied; And Immediately The

Latch Of The Door Clicked As It Was Closed.

There Was A Pause,  During Which Irene,  Holding Her Handkerchief To Her

Lips,  Crept To The Connecting Door And Stood With Her Ear Close To The

Keyhole. She Held Her Breath. The Pounding Of Her Heart Seemed To Fill

The Still Room With Obtrusive Sound.

"You Must Pardon Me,  But It Is My Duty"--The Proprietor's Voice Rose

With Sudden Sharpness--"To Speak Of Your Relations With The Woman You

Brought Here With You."

"My--My Relations?" Buckton's Voice Had Fallen Low,  And The Tone Was

Cautious. "Please Don't Talk So Loud. She Is Not Well And Might

Overhear. What Do You Mean,  Sir--Do You Mean To Insinuate--"

"You May Call It Anything You Like," The Proprietor Retorted,  In

Evident Anger. "I've Been In The Hotel Business For Twenty-Five Years,

And Have Never Been Charged With Keeping An Indecent House. When You

Arrived Here I Thought Your Companion Was All Right,  But I Now Know

Who And What She Is. I Can Rely On My Information,  So We Won't Argue

About That."

Irene Heard A Scuffing Of Feet Which Drew The Two Men Closer To The

Door At Which She Stood. The Truth Was That Buckton Had Drawn Back To

Strike The Man,  Who Caught His Hand And Held It.

"Don't Try That On Me!" The Proprietor Said,  Calmly. "Your Bluff Is

Weak. Now,  Let Me Give You A Piece Of Advice,  Young Man. I've Watched

This Thing With My Own Eyes And Ears,  And I Know Exactly What Is Going

On. This Is A Strict,  Law-Abiding,  Old-Fashioned Town. Decency Has

Been Reigning Here For Over Two Hundred Years. The Average Citizen Of

Charleston Has No Sympathy For The Sort Of Thing You Are Evidently

Trying To Foist On Us. You've Got Sense Enough To Know That All I Have

To Do Is To Telephone The Police To Take Charge Of This Matter And Air

It In Open Court. You Might Get It Whitewashed In _Your_ Town By Some

Pull Or Other,  But Not Here. I Think,  Since You Want To Be Insulting,

That I'd Better Send For An Officer."

Irene Heard The Proprietor Moving To The Outer Door; His Hand Touched

The Latch,  And It Rattled.

"Wait!" It Was Her Lover's Voice,  And It Was Contrite And Imploring.

"For God's Sake,  Don't Give Us Trouble! We Are Leaving For Savannah In

The Morning. Surely You Will Not Put Us Out To-Night?"

"No,  The Train Leaves At Ten. See That You Take It. I Am Not Any More

Anxious To Have This Dirty Thing Get Out Than You Are. Good Night."

"Good Night." The Door Closed. Receding Steps Sounded In The Corridor

Outside. Irene Reeled Back To Her Chair And Sat Down. A Moment Later

Buckton Appeared. He Was Ghastly Pale,  Trying To Recover Calmness And

Invent A Plausible Explanation As To Why He Had Been Called To The

Door. She Gazed At Him Steadily.

"You Needn't Make Up A Story," She Said. "I Overheard."

He Stood Looking Down On Her Helplessly. He Swayed To And Fro,  Resting

His Hand On The Back Of Her Chair.

"You Say--You--Heard?"

She Nodded. "He Told The Truth About Me. That's Actually What I Am,"

She Said,  Grimly. "That Is Exactly The Way The World Will Look At Me

When It Knows All. It Was Lucky That I Heard. As He Was Talking I Kept

Saying,  'That's So--That's So,' And I Wasn't A Bit Angry--Not A Bit. A

Bad Woman--A Bold,  Bad Woman Would Have Flared Up,  But I'm Not That--

God Knows I Am Not. I Have Been Tricked,  Blinded,  Led Along By My

Imagination And Ideals Ever Since I Was A Child. Now My Head Is On The

Block,  And The Puritan World Is Swinging The Ax. Oh,  How I Cringed

Just Now! I,  Who Have Heard Nothing But The Compliments Of Men All My

Life,  Heard The Truth At Last. I've Been Vain,  Silly,  Mad. I Could

Crawl In The Dust And Kiss The Feet Of An Unsullied Shop-Girl. Well,

Well,  What's To Be Done?"

"We Leave For Savannah In The Morning,  And From There Sail For New

York," He Answered. "I'm Going To Kill Your Despondency,  Dear. You

Must Sleep Now. Don't Pack To-Night. I'll Wake You Early In The

Morning,  And Will Help You Do It Then."

"Well,  Well,  Leave Me," She Sighed. "I'll Go To Bed. I'll Take A

Tablet. I Want To Forget. That Voice--Oh,  God! That Man's Voice! He

Was A Judge On The Bench--All Arguments In My Defense Had Been Set

Aside By A Jury Of Truthful Men. He Pronounced My Sentence. I'm To Be

Swept Out In The Morning Along With The Dirt From Men's Boots. I--I--

Irene Mostyn--No,  No,  Not _Mostyn_--Irene _Nobody_,  Will Not Dare To

Look Into The Faces Of Black Servants As I Slink Away In The Morning

With You--You,  My Choice,  A Man Whom--Before God I Swear It--I No More

Actually Love You Than--"

"Don't--Don't For God's Sake; I Can't Bear It!" He Was On The Verge Of

Tears. "I've Been Afraid Of That. I Thought You'd Be Happy With Me,

But So Far You Have Been Just The Reverse. But I Won't Give Up--I

Won't! You Are My Very Life."

"Well,  Go,  Go!" She Cried. "I Must Sleep. I Rolled And Tossed All

Night Last Night. I'll Go Mad If This Keeps Up. Get Me A Tablet From

The Bottle,  And A Glass Of Water--No,  I'll Take It Later. Oh,  Oh,  Oh!

I Am Sure Now That My Child Is Dead,  And That His Father Is Crazed

With Grief. That Was What My Strange Dream Meant. People Say Such

Things Are Prophetic,  And I Know It Is So--I Feel It Through And

Through. The Child Of My Breast Died While I Was Here Like This With

_You_--With _You Here In My Bedroom_."

"You Really Must Try To Be Calm," Buckton Urged. "Those Are Only

Morbid Fancies. The World Is Before Us,  Darling,  Just As It Was When

We Left Home. There Is Really No Change Except In Your Imagination."

A Shrewd Look Settled On Her Face. She Waved Her Hand Toward The Door.

"Well,  Leave Me Alone Then. Please Do."

"All Right,  I'll Go." He Bent To Kiss Her,  But With A Sharp Little

Scream That Was Half Hysterical She Raised Her Hands And Pushed Him

Back. "Don't Do That!" She Cried,  Almost In Alarm. "Don't Do It

Again!"

She Glanced Furtively About The Room--At The Closet Door,  Under The

Bed,  And,  Leaning To One Side,  Peered Behind The Bureau,  As If Her

Mind Was Wandering. "Don't Touch Me. Little Dick Will See You. He Is

Here--I Know It--I Feel It. I Can Almost See Him,  Like A Misty Cloud.

He Seems To Come Between You And Me,  As If Wondering Why You Are Here.

He Seems To Be Trying To Comfort